Aftermath
by turkeyplatter
Summary: This story picks up a few hours after the end of the first Underworld--don't even get me started on the abomination that was Underworld: Evolution. It follows Selene and Michael, what happens to them, etc...
1. Aftermath

11

Category:

Underworld.

Disclaimer:

I do not own Underworld, the vampire/lycan world, or the characters.

Description:

This story picks up immediately where Underworld left off (Underworld Evolution is not worthy to even be considered a sequel to the brilliance of Underworld).

The writing chronology of this fan fiction is a little messed up. "Aftermath" was written in its entirety roughly three months before the following chapters. Then I dug it out from the archives, re-wrote the ending of "Aftermath" and wrote "Contact" as an alternate route. The two paths sat in my database for roughly four months before I picked it up again, switched the ending of "Aftermath" to the original version, and wrote "War" to connect the two storylines. Now, almost a year after beginning "Aftermath," I've finished. Yes, I know it's a cliff-hanger, but the story is complete. This was never meant to be anything more than the immediate story after Underworld, and I like it. Don't like the style? *shrug*

Aftermath

Selene ignored the first palings that belied the rising sun. They would be safely in a storm shelter within four minutes. Behind her, she could sense Michael's growing agitation.

Michael was in even more foreign territory than Selene. At least she was familiar with the underworld lairs and cubby holes of vampires. Poor Michael was still adjusting from his human mindset. From the glazed expression he now wore, she guessed that his mental litany was probably something to the effect of, _"This is a dream. I'm going to wake up any minute now."_ Selene frowned at the irony. If she hadn't been alive for the better part of two hundred years, the events of last night would be making her question reality as well.

But blissful illusions evaded her, and Selene was left with a painstaking clarity of their present: she and Michael would be hunted. Maybe not tonight or the next, but the vampires would eventually organize enough to awaken Marcus. When the last Elder was awakened, the vampires would come looking for Victor's treacherous adopted daughter and her "pet." Salene's frown deepened to a scowl. Given the lycans' reactions to her and Michael after Victor's demise, she rather suspected that the lycans not only wouldn't join the hunt but might attempt to make themselves their allies.

Selene unconsciously shuddered at the thought. A mere six hours after Kraven's revelation that the lycans had not been responsible for her family's slaughter was far too soon to cast off two centuries of ingrained hatred.

Mistaking her shudder, Michael pressed closer. "The sun," he said pointedly.

Selene almost ignored the comment. It was vaguely irritating how he demanded an explanation to the most obvious details. Still, something within Selene compelled her to respond, "There's a safe house two minutes from here. It's the first stop on a back route out of the country."

Michael cast a nervous glance at the glowing horizon and quickened his pace. "Won't the vampires look for us here?" he asked.

Selene shook her head. "This isn't a route used by vampires. Too much risk from sunlight," she replied cryptically.

He shot her a look. "Then is this a lycan trail?"

"One of the lessons Victor taught me was to always have a hidden escape route from the enemy and to have an even more obscure one from your friends." Selene paused at the irony. "Funny. It's as if he expected he would have to hunt me down."

The barely hidden sun began to make her skin itch. Another five minutes and she would be dust. Quickening her step, Selene emerged from the scant woods.

Before them was a dilapidated shack. Abandoned and crumbling from the inside, the building was riddled with termites and wood rot. Not far from the shack, two wooden doors covered the opening to an old storm shelter. From the numerous cracks and holes in the wood, few passing vampires would either seek shelter here or bother to check for a friendly inside.

Pulling the door up, Selene stepped into the earthy hole. Immediately, she made for the body bag hidden beneath an empty barrel and an inch of dirt. The growing light closing to bar-like shafts streaming through the wooden seams let her know that Michael had followed her inside. Without preamble, her unzipped the bag, slid inside, and zipped it back up.

Even inside the body bag, Salene could sense Michael's confusion. Obviously, people getting into body bags of their own accord wasn't a sight to which he was accustomed. "We'll move again when the sun goes down," she instructed, her voice sounding too close in the muffled bag. "Sleep until then." Without waiting for a response, Selene closed her eyes and consciously slowed her breathing.

* * *

Selene did not sleep well. Between the stifling heat of UV rays hitting the outside of the body bag, Michael's near constant shuffling, and her own raw nerves, sleep was nigh impossible. Thus, when she sensed the UV rays retreat from the reach of her corner of the storm shelter, Salene emerged, drawn and tired.

Michael's grim face met hers. He looked less spooked than last night. "We should move out," she stated. He nodded but didn't speak. Selene looked searchingly at him. After being cuffed to a chair by her, captured by lycans, and then on the run from vampires, he probably hadn't eaten anything in the past three days. "There's a farm two hours' walk from here," she continued. "The people there know me."

He shot her a look. "Humans?" he queried.

She was almost grateful for the excuse to talk mindlessly. It prevented her from thinking about the past 36 hours. "They don't know what I am," she explained. "All they know is that I pay them to have their name on the deed and maintain the property."

A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of Michael's mouth. "Hopefully it's better maintained than this place," he quipped.

Selene's expression softened slightly. "This isn't my property," she said dryly. "Mine begins about an hour's walk from here." Michael took in this information with a remarkable amount of acceptance. "Come on. We shouldn't take too long or they'll all be asleep by the time we arrive."

Decidedly, Salene pushed the door up, leaving Michael to follow. The sun had barely sunken below the horizon. Her skin immediately reacted to the last glimmers of UV rays, turning a brilliant red. Before Michael could notice and pull her back inside, she started walking. She wasn't in any real danger and her skin would regenerate within a few minutes. More importantly, each leg of this journey was tightly timed. Granted, she had roughly half an hour leeway for possible injuries, but that didn't allow much time for visiting her long neglected tenets and moving on. Then there was Michael. She wasn't certain what he would need to sustain himself. If he followed the traditional immortal trend, he would need to feed on either raw flesh or blood. But Michael was a new species. He might have retained his human stomach. Selene's face settled into a frown as she puzzled over possible alternative routes depending on Michael's appetite.

Oblivious to the amount of trouble he was causing her, Michael lengthened his stride to match hers. "So, these people won't be suspicious at all when we come knocking on their door looking like this," he stated more than asked.

Selene cast their outfits a cursory glance and shrugged. "I've told them that I can't tell them my occupation or who I am. They probably already suspect that I either work for a foreign government or the mob. Besides, I've visited them in my death dealer uniform before. I doubt a little extra grime will scare them off."

"Won't talking to them put them in danger?"

"Possibly," she ceded.

When she didn't continue, Michael ventured, "You would put innocent people at risk?"

An edge of annoyance crept into Salene's voice as she shot back, "Yes, I_ will_." The tense change was not lost on Michael, who immediately came to a halt. Her frustration mounting, Selene rounded on the hybrid.

"No," he said stubbornly. "I won't endanger them."

Selene almost slapped him. "You're still thinking like a human," she shot back, her tone as cold as steel. Michael's skin rippled briefly, belying the early stages of transformation before settling back into his human mold. "You don't know how you'll behave around humans anymore," she continued. "My route stays well away from any cities or large populations. Think of it as damage control."

Michael's eyes flickered with confusion. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"I mean that I need to feed and you're more likely to eat people than not." Her cold words leveled him. She felt a tinge of regret as Michael's expression shifted to one of revulsion, but he needed to understand.

"You're going to…" he paused, "suck these people's blood."

Selene snorted. "Of course not," she shot back. "I'm just going to pick up some things I left in the garage." With that, she started walking again. That was five minutes needlessly wasted.

A few seconds later, she heard Michael's reluctant footsteps behind her. "So what's in the garage?" he questioned. "Guns? Cars? Blood packs?"

Selene recognized the tone of someone trying to distract himself. Obviously, he found his prospective nutritional needs unsettling. "Guns and cars: yes," she replied. "I thought blood packs may have been a little too suspicious."

Momentarily distracted, Michael shot her a look. "You just made a joke," he stated.

"Did I?" she replied blandly.

The atmosphere normal once again, they continued the rest of the trek in relative silence. Only when the distant outline of a speck obstructed the landscape did Salene break the silence with a cryptic, "There's the next stop."

Michael's stomach growled loudly in response.

Selene allowed a ghost of a smile before doubling her speed. Michael easily kept stride with her, moving even faster. As his strides grew longer and more jerky, Selene slowed to the original pace. She needed Michael to be fully in human form when they approached the house. If he lost control and went on a feeding spree, she doubted anything could stop him. Conscious of this, the rest of the journey was made at a painstakingly slow pace. By the time they arrived at the doorstep, Michael's muscles had slowed to what she judged was an untransformed state.

Keeping half her senses aware of Michael, Selene knocked on the door.

Three humans stirred inside. Helen peeked outside the glass, her face paling slightly at the sight of Selene and her companion. Helen fumbled briefly with the doorknob before opening the door. Salene noted that the girl held to the practice of averting her eyes.

Stepping past Helen, Selene strode into the dining room, Michael following cautiously. Helen's father immediately stood and the mother called briefly from the kitchen, asking her husband who was visiting at such a late hour. He spoke roughly to her in Hungarian, "The landlord is here. Come out, now." A moment later, Helen's mother emerged from the kitchen looking every bit as cautious as Michael in the presence of the "landlord."

Selene had never let on that she spoke their native tongue and felt no need to enlighten them. "I need my things," she stated in English.

After a brief pause, Helen translated Selene's demand for her tense parents. The father eyed Michael and the pair's condition before nodding. Obviously, he thought she was in trouble of some sort.

"If you don't want to continue living here, feel free to leave," Selene continued. Helen translated as she spoke, "The agreed sum will be in the account discussed. No strings."

The husband and wife paled another shade, but the husband finally nodded his comprehension and acceptance. "Helen, get them some food while I get the key," he instructed.

Heading off that option before it could be translated into a language Michael could understand, Selene added, "I would appreciate it if you could hurry. My friend and I will be leaving immediately."

Helen nervously translated. The stench of sweat hit her nostrils. This family had a keen sense of self-preservation, even if they didn't realize they were currently hosting the country's most wanted vampire and the world's only vampire-lycan hybrid. Almost as suddenly, another scent caught her attention: hot blood. Caught off-guard, Selene walked to the window on the pretense of looking at the garage. Clenching her teeth, Salene knew her eyes had just turned shock blue. Apparently sensing her transformation, Michael stepped further into the room.

Misinterpreting the action as a threat, the husband hastily began nodding and gesturing in a manner that was meant to appease her. All he succeeded in doing was to intensify his role as a walking blood bank.

Unable to stay in the house any longer, Selene nodded shortly and made for the door.

As the crisp evening air hit her face, Selene drew in deep breaths. She had never experienced that in the presence of a human before. Michael's had been the first human blood she'd tasted in her brief two hundred years. She had heard stories from older vampires about bloodlust. It was the primary reason why only younger vampires who had only tasted animals or synthetic blood were death dealers. Still, Selene had always scoffed at the older vampires' utter lack of self-control around humans. Now, she was beginning to understand.

The pounding in her head was so loud that she barely noticed Michael until he was right next to her. "Selene," he said, putting a tentative hand on her shoulder.

As quickly as the urge had come, it left. With a last deep breath, Selene opened her brown eyes. "I'm fine," she lied.

He didn't believe her. She was certain of that, but neither did he question her. "Fine," he accepted. But his brow remained knit in a worried expression.

_Good. At least he'll be too distracted to think about ripping out anyone's jugular. _ Even as the morbid thought crossed her mind, though, Selene distantly wondered if Michael's diet would consist of lower-level immortals instead of humans. The thought was enough to shock her mind back into its usual, calculating state. Narrowing her eyes, Selene assessed Michael's gaze in a new light. Maybe he wasn't so much concerned as conflicted about the identity of his next meal. Suddenly, she wasn't looking forward to being alone in the nearly vacant countryside with Michael.

Covering her shudder by feigning a chill, Selene strode quickly away from Michael and towards the garage.

* * *

The faded grey Toyota truck hardly looked like a vehicle fit for any mythological creature. An earthy mixture of hay and manure was plastered to the bottom of the hauling space, feigning recent use.

The husband hurried to tether the required fifteen goats to a metal bar that ran along the floor of the truck's storage space.

Removing a wooden board in the floor, Selene hauled up a duffle bag. Briefly, she judged the bag's weight with one hand. She shot the husband a sharp look and he scurried away to catch another goat.

Walking in to witness the exchange, Michael commented, "You really need to work on your people skills."

"There's a clip missing," she said by way of explanation. Michael didn't question the statement as she unzipped the dust covered bag. Apparently, he wasn't going to argue with her in matters of firearms.

Briefly, Selene grabbed the zip-loc on top, which contained a berretta 9mm, fully automatic. Glad to have the familiar weight in her hand, she rummaged for a clip and loaded the weapon.

The husband returned just in time to witness the action, a kid around his shoulders. Paling, he placed the kid in the back of the truck before cautiously approaching her. Taking an object from his back pocket, Selene instantly recognized the sleek form of a 9mm clip. Selene frowned as she accepted the clip. It didn't weigh enough to be loaded with silver bullets. Ejecting one for inspection, she made a show of observing the dull hollow tip. Suddenly, she turned her sharp eyes to the now trembling husband. She held up the bullet for him to see and asked in fluent Hungarian, "Where are my bullets?"

The sudden switch to his language seemed to unnerve him more than the accusation. Sputtering a few unintelligible words, he finally managed to explain about his wife's fondness for silver. Under her narrowed gaze, he continued that he had taken the bullets into town and had them melted into a figurine mold.

"How long ago?" she probed.

"Two months," he said nervously.

Selene cursed. Silver bullets were rare enough a commodity amongst humans to spark interest. It just left that much more of a trail for her and Michael's pursuers to follow. Lowering her voice to its deadliest tone, Selene warned, "If you value your family, you'll forget about those bullets."

The man turned white as a ghost, perspiration standing out against his skin, the blood pulsing faster with his anxiety—

Selene returned to taking the weapons out of the zip-locs and loading them. Beating a hasty retreat, the prey escaped.

"You need blood," Michael stated.

Selene carefully kept her attention on the small arsenal. It was annoying how perceptive Michael was becoming. Still, she could wait. These goats would have to last her—and maybe him—until they reached France. Her diet could suffer until then. Besides, the next part of the journey wouldn't place them anywhere near humans, and if she lost control and attacked Michael he was more than capable of fending her off. This in mind, Selene used a boot knife to cut the truck's keys out of the lining of the duffle bag. "Four more goats and five containers of gasoline," she said. "Then we leave."

* * *

Not surprisingly, Michael's appetite proved more pressing than her own. On the second evening of their escape, Selene awoke to find Michael's semi-transformed form retching blood and two goats missing. Further inspection revealed splatters of blood, but nothing else. Apparently, hybrids weren't picky about which parts they consumed.

Unfortunately, the scent of fresh blood aroused her own appetite and another goat was sacrificed.

Despite dusk's gruesome feast, Selene was more than a little relieved to find that Michael had shown a taste for animal meat. For the time being, she could rest easy about the notion of being butchered in her sleep.

As the days passed, Selene grew more restless. During the evenings she and Michael would alternate driving, him on main roads and her on the beaten tracks. When she wasn't sitting, she was sleeping in a body bag. All in all, there were no outlets for her cramping muscles aside from the brief strides between the truck door and the next hidden body bag. Thus, as the sun retreated behind the tree line one night, Selene insisted that Michael drive behind her while she ran ahead of the truck.

Michael was less than thrilled with the idea but had enough sense not to argue.

Racing ahead, she led Michael on an endless game of tag. Unrestrained by the metal box on wheels, Selene ran, showing Michael the next overgrown trail he was to follow before darting for the cover of the brush.

Cool, untainted air filled her lungs. Insects quieted and birds scattered as they sensed the approach of a predator. If not for the barreling machine close by, she could almost pretend that she was a newborn vampire, joining her first hunt. It was exhilarating.

Crouching low to the ground, Selene used the brush to disappear for minutes at a time. Then, she leapt about twenty yards from the truck's headlights to let Michael know that she was still there. The first time she had done this, the truck had almost been wed to a tree trunk. Thankfully, Michael no longer jerked the wheel at her sudden appearances. Selene stayed on the road a few more seconds before vaulting onto a low-hanging branch. Now in the trees, she acted as an inverted shadow for the truck.

Abruptly, she became aware of two creatures approaching from behind. Selene immediately dropped onto the back of the truck. Behind the wheel, Michael yelped and cursed as he attempted to straighten out the truck. Ignoring him, Selene maneuvered along the truck's side and sidled into the passenger's seat through the open window. "Lycans," she said, taking a pair of Uzi semi-automatics and five clips from under the seat. "Pull over."

Michael cursed but stopped the vehicle.

Tossing him the loaded weapons, Selene pulled out her favored 9mm and checked the clip. "Get ready," she instructed. Selene briefly noted Michael's distaste for the cold steel, but she dismissed it just as quickly. This was his life now. He would adjust.

Selene and Michael opened their doors and emerged, armed and aware.

The goats bleated even more loudly than usual, marking the nearness of their pursuers.

A faint breeze carried the scent of unwashed lycan to her nostrils. Without pause, Selene trained her gun in the direction of the scent. A heartbeat later, two scruffy lycans emerged from the brush, loose-fitting coats hanging limply on their shoulders. Selene noted the stench of other lycans on their flesh. More could be nearby. A lot more.

To her surprise, Michael was the first to speak, "I know you two. You were with Lucian."

The lycans grunted by way of affirmation. The scruffier of the two looked sharply between Michael and Selene before broaching, "We've been sent to talk."

All of Salene's training dictated that she put a bullet in both their heads. Her instincts, on the other hand, told her to listen. Hesitantly, she lowered her gun, though she kept her finger firmly on the trigger; a fact that was not lost on the lycans.

The same lycan grunted a mixture of uneasiness and approval at Selene before turning his attention to Michael. "My name is Jonas, and this is Murdoch," he started, gesturing to the lanky youth beside him. "We are one of many parties sent to search for you and deliver a message."

Michael nodded, the Uzis all but forgotten in his hands. Selene frowned at how easily he let his guard slip. Were he still human, she would have opened fire and hauled him out of there before he became the lycans' next meal. But Michael wasn't human. The fact that the lycans had not relaxed in his presence despite his lowering the Uzis was proof enough of that. Still, she would have to instruct Michael as to the finer points of survival.

Taking the silence as invitation to continue, Jonas went on, "Word of you two has been sent to the lycan clans. If you need aide or shelter from the vampires, you are welcome to such as we have." His message delivered, Jonas went silent, as if waiting for a response.

Selene glanced carefully at Michael. She was not so presumptuous as to assume the offer extended to her. She might be tolerated as a means to entice Michael, but she would be about as safe with lycans as she would be with her own kind. Still, Michael would be safer with them.

Beside her, Michael stirred. "I thought that the lycans would take this chance to ally with the vampires," he stated guardedly.

Selene hid an expression of approval. Maybe he wasn't as relaxed as he appeared.

Murdoch balked at his assumption and spat, "Survival."

"The vampire elder Marcus is a vampire no more," Jonas elaborated. He paused to look at Michael. "He's a hybrid like you."

It was Selene's turn to balk. "How is that possible?" she asked sharply.

Jonas shook his head. "I do not know," he answered. "But whoever's blood revived him must have been a part of Lucian's force. Marcus knew exactly where we would hide."

Selene's mind flicked to the lycan doctor she had dragged in front of Victor. It was her fault. She scowled. This would make everything that much more complicated.

"The pack leaders seek to join forces," Jonas continued, "with both of you."

Selene remained silent, giving no sign of either refusal or acceptance. If Michael was to maintain any respect in lycan eyes, he could not appear to be ruled by a vampire. Deliberately, she turned a hard gaze on Michael, forcing him to decide.

* * *

Traveling with lycans was not pleasant. Even with a full pardon, Salene's trigger fingers were itchy. From side long glances at their escort, the pair was fighting the urge to rip out her throat. The fact that she still donned her death dealer's uniform did nothing to ease the tension.

Selene was keenly aware of Michael's close form and, for once, was grateful for his protective presence.

Running closer to her, Murdoch sneered, "You have him pretty well trained."

Selene ignored him. Unlike his older counterpart, Murdoch did nothing to disguise his hatred. "Did I kill someone important to you?" she asked more out of annoyance than interest.

Murdoch lunged at her.

Tense from hours of anticipated attack, her body automatically dodged the transformed lycan's claws. Her berretta was in her hand a heartbeat later but without need. Michael may have been caught unawares, but Jonas already had Murdoch pinned against the ground. That Jonas was able to restrain the enraged lycan without transforming belied his age.

"Control yourself, newblood," Jonas growled.

The younger lycan continued to struggle. "That _vampire_," Murdoch howled, "killed my little sister! I'll take her blood!"

Selene tensed at the accusation but didn't deny it. Well she understood the drive of vengeance. Had her own vendetta not been settled with Victor, no power on Earth could have stopped her from at least trying to rip out his throat. Salene turned away from the scene, taking the opportunity to hunt.

They had set the remaining goats loose and abandoned the truck for travel on foot. Although they covered more ground faster, they had also left behind a free meal. She had rather been counting on slaking her appetite with a kid before morning. If Murdoch's reaction was any indication, however, she shouldn't trust any sustenance at journey's end. Thus, Selene slipped away in search of an unsuspecting bird's nest.

His protective instincts kicking in, Michael followed her. She noted that his eyes were pitch black, almost making him look more inhuman than when he was in hybrid form. Averting her eyes, Selene opened her senses to detect the faintest sign of a creature that might not have fled from their approach. Unfortunately, her efforts were fruitless. Even the bats had fled.

"Is what Murdoch said true?" Michael asked quietly.

Selene looked at him. "Probably," she answered truthfully. "I've killed hundreds of lycans."

Michael's gaze turned piercing. "You don't seem too troubled by it."

She had never thought of herself as old, but Michael's ignorance was making her seem like an Elder. "Do you really expect me to have remorse for every lycan I've ever killed?" she leveled at him, cold sarcasm dripping from every word. The sudden tension in Michael's shoulders belied his indignation at such an inhuman response. "I'm a death dealer, Michael. I have better things to do than sit around moaning about such things."

Turning away, Selene made to leave. She blinked and Michael was standing before her, blocking her path. "You're not a death dealer anymore," he pointed out. "You don't have to act like one."

Although these truths should have been obvious, Selene's mind recoiled. Of course she knew that she was no longer a death dealer. That identity had been traded for a killing blow against Victor. Still, the equally valid truth escaped her lips, "I don't know how to be anything else."

The honesty in those words, once spoken, broke something within her. The true horror of Victor's work hadn't just been that he had butchered her family. He had gone further to twist her into a killing machine who thought as much about the lives she ruined as the dust on her boot. Even after his death, the lessons and training of two centuries prevented her from breaking from the mold of a ruthless killer. Selene's face twisted in disgust. Victor was even to thank for her and Michael's evasion of the vampires thus far.

Unbidden, an image of her future flashed before her eyes. The only difference from her past was that the lycans were now vampires. Friends. Selene closed her eyes to shut out the image. The unwanted thought combined with hunger made her stomach churn.

Michael moved closer. At this distance, his scent was so strong that she could almost taste his blood on the air. Selene made to jerk away, but Michael's hands had found purchase on her death dealer's suit.

"You need blood," he stated simply.

Selene searched his eyes, now back to their normal hazel. A hint of fear hovered at the edge of his determined pose, but the latter far outweighed any instincts that were telling him to run.

Hesitant, Selene drew closer to his neck. She paused long enough in her advance to glance once into his eyes. Permission gained, Selene extended her fangs and bit into his jugular. Michael's taste had changed. After several long draughts, Selene pinpointed the difference: although his blood was still sweet, it did not fill her. On the contrary, like a thirsty man drinking alcohol, the blood invited her to drink deeper instead of slaking her thirst. Pulling away, Selene stumbled away from Michael.

Given the amount of blood she had drained from him, she was surprised that he didn't collapse on the spot.

Averting her gaze, Selene uttered a soft, "I'm sorry, Michael" and fled his company.

Michael did not pursue. Whether from weakness or revulsion, she wasn't certain, but she was thankful for a few moments alone.


	2. War

5

War

Michael balked as Selene didn't hesitate to jump down the sewer drain. The stench of human refuse assaulted his nostrils, telltale signs of what was waiting below. Swallowing against the sudden vomit in his throat, Michael jumped into the hole.

Selene and Jonas were waiting, the former with shock blue eyes.

A loud _squish _marked Murdoch's descent. Half-transformed already, Murdoch prowled into the lead.

"We can move unrestrained here," Jonas stated, beginning the transformation. "Keep up."

Allowing the change to take him, Michael launched after their suddenly distant escort. He was surprised when he found their neck-break speeds to be slow, sluggish. Falling back, he matched Selene's seeming deliberately slow pace.

A closer look at her told him that he wasn't far off the mark. Her jaw was clamped shut, eyes averted from the lycans and him. Understanding clicked. She hadn't fed in at least three days, and given her reaction to his blood earlier he suspected it had done nothing to curb her appetite. If her bloodlust was anything like his own newfound taste for flesh, then being in a transformed state with fresh blood in front of her must be driving her crazy. Michael's heightened senses detected a slight tremor in her muscles. She needed blood. Now.

Abruptly, Michael dug in his heels and grabbed Selene's wrist, jerking them both to a halt.

Sensing that they had lost their "guests," the lycans doubled back. "Not much farther," Jonas assured. Then his gaze went to Selene's rigid form. A grim expression settled over his semi-transformed face. "I see."

Behind him Murdoch bared his teeth and growled.

Michael moved in front of Selene, baring his own fangs.

"Murdoch!" Jonas called sharply. The younger lycan stilled but continued to growl. "Go get one from the feeding chamber, and make yourself useful for a change."

Behind him, Selene stiffened even more. "I won't drink from a human," she bit out.

Michael's gaze sharpened at her words. Lycans ate humans? A feral rage and revulsion began to build inside his chest. He had known lycans fed on humans. Salene had told him so after Lucian had bitten him. Still, the thought was sickening. "And neither will I," Michael half-growled.

Jonas looked curiously at the pair. Obviously, this wasn't something he had expected. Finally, "Murdoch." Some implied order carried in the word. The younger lycan emitted a low growl before barreling toward the den. As if conscious of Selene's struggle not to attack him, Jonas withdrew to a cautious distance down the sewer pipe.

Transforming to a human state, Michael turned to Selene. She wasn't quite as tense with Jonas and Murdoch gone, but her eyes were still shock blue. "Are you okay?" he asked.

Selene looked at him involuntarily and forced a step back. Her gaze shifted briefly to his jugular before she retreated twenty feet back the way they'd come. Her back solidly to him and Jonas, she waited.

* * *

The den was busier than an ER after a five car pile-up. Some lycans barked orders at the teaming crowd, trying to separate them into groups of some sort. Before he could discern what was going on, Jonas grabbed his arm and pulled him into a side corridor.

Distantly, Michael wondered if lycans had an affinity for dark, dank tunnels.

"News of your arrival has reached the pack leaders," Jonas explained en route. "They will want to speak with you immediately." Michael bit his tongue on his many questions and allowed himself to be led further into the den.

Selene shadowed him, staying closer than was strictly necessary. Michael didn't mind. Still, he could taste the hostility and bloodlust directed at Selene, though he also sensed a grudging acceptance. Allowing his eyes to turn black, Michael shot a warning glance at the lycan crowds and placed a possessive hand on the small of Selene's back. She may have tensed, but her muscles were already wound so tight he couldn't be sure.

"In here," Jonas instructed, recalling Michael's attention.

The chamber was a cross-section in the sewer lines, large enough to host the eight grim leaders but teaming with excess excretion. It occurred to Michael belatedly that their hosts didn't appear to enjoy their present location anymore than he did. Again, the delayed wisdom clicked that no immortal could rely on scent down here, and the interconnected maze of pipes provided a natural defense against intruders.

The pack leaders welcomed him and Salene with guarded stares.

Jonas quickly retreated down a side pipe, apparently not welcome to take part in the meeting.

Only the occasional _plop _and continuous hum of sewage flow interrupted the tense atmosphere in the chamber.

"My men tell me you two killed a vampire Elder." The lycan was a small, shirtless man with greasy, short black hair. "And Victor, nonetheless."

Michael's heightened sense did not miss the signs of approval evident in the other lycans' body language. "I'm Michael," he stated by way of introduction.

Another, much larger man grunted. "We know who you are."

"There is not one of us here who did not support Lucian and his den," another informed them.

"And you," the first now addressed Selene. Michael tensed at the note of amusement in the lycan's voice. "Who could have guessed Victor's loyal dog would finish him?"

Selene leveled a cold stare at the man.

Abruptly, the lycan barked a laugh. A tension Michael hadn't noticed before dissipated. The other pack leaders noticeably relaxed. "Alright, we're all dogs here," the short one continued with no small amount of ire. "Let's discuss a dog's business."

* * *

Selene paid close attention to the map as each pack leader reported on the condition and locations of their various packs. This den was only a small pocket of lycans scattered across Europe. There was much talk of forging new routes. Roughly half of the older ones were being invaded by vampires, though some routes that led to the heart of vampire territory were left untouched.

The tallest of the pack leaders, Bryce, cursed in Hungarian. "It would be easier if we knew which of us Marcus tasted," he growled.

"It was the doctor from Lucian's den," Selene supplied. "The one in charge of the research on Corvinus."

A general string of low curses escaped the eight lycan leaders in almost as many languages.

"You are certain?" the short one, Talon, pressed.

"I brought him to the mansion myself," she stated simply, meeting Talon's gaze. General scowls and mumbled curses greeted her confession, but none of them attacked her. Apparently, killing Victor had covered a multitude of sins.

"That closes off most of the tried routes," James, an English lycan, asserted. "We'll need more path forgers."

"And more men to make a stand against Marcus," Rousseau agreed.

A black lycan who hadn't spoken stepped forward. "My entire pack can be here within a moon cycle," he supplied.

Selene did not miss the way the other pack leaders deferred to the silent one. Apparently he controlled quite a large pack. Still, "It won't work, even if you pool all of your men," she asserted. The pack leaders turned on her. Salene ignored the glares and continued, "Amelia was killed by Lucian's men, Victor is dead, and Marcus is the only Elder left to the vampires." The politics of the coven were lost on the lycans.

Frustrated, Selene marched to the map of Europe that had been pinned to the damp wall, Os scribbled where lycan dens were hidden and Xs for vampire pockets. Selene grabbed the unused pencil from Michael and began marking up the map. "There are sleeping covens planted across the Continent." She heard low growls behind her as she marked several Xs close to or on top of the majority of the Os. "Most of your dens' locations have probably already been compromised." Selene stepped back, allowing the leaders an unobstructed view of the marked up map.

Their gazes darkened as the Xs suddenly were much closer in number to the Os.

"Each sleeping coven is composed of anywhere from twenty to thirty vampires with highly specialized training. These operate silently outside of the main coven's jurisdiction." She pointed to the big X that marked Marcus' coven. "However, an Elder can activate these sleeping covens if an emergency were to arise." She paused. "With Victor and Amelia dead, Marcus now has direct control over not only the covens and sleeping covens in Europe, but in North America and Asia as well. We aren't just facing a single coven any longer. The whole of the vampire world is about to coming crashing down on our heads."

Her words had the desired impact.

"What do you propose?" Talon's voice broke above the rabble.

Selene hesitated. They weren't going to like this next part. "We need allies."

Bryce snorted. "There isn't a lycan who will not join our cause."

She absorbed the information but shook her head. "I'm not talking about lycans," she said firmly. The death dealer in her hesitated, screaming not reveal any more to her blood enemy. "A few decades ago, some of the sleeping covens in North America went silent. A team of death dealers was sent to investigate. Officially, the team reported evidence of lycan raids." Salene paused. "I was on that team. There was no lycan activity. The vampires defected."

The silent one gave her a hard look. "You think they will join us," he stated more than asked.

Selene frowned in doubt. "I don't now," she said, letting out a frustrated breath. "Amelia wasn't even sure where they hid, but there have been enough clues found over the decades to at least guess where they might be located."

Many of the lycans gave rumbling chuckles or short barks. "We don't have time for guesses," Rousseau spat impatiently.

"Six years ago, my team intercepted a vampire trying to defect," she pressed. "He was captured with a set of written instructions for making contact. If I follow them, I should be able to make contact." Selene waited for the lycans to make a decision. Obviously, they didn't like the idea of joining forces with vampires, renegade though they may be.

"And what if you succeed?" a barrel of a lycan challenged. "What reason would vampires have to fight against their own kind?"

Selene ignored the implication directed at her. "Their defection has only been tolerated because of the war with you," she answered pointedly. "With the lycans under control, they'll be the next target. It's in their best interests for the lycans to be alive to distract Marcus."

The lycans growled at her bluntness.

"Wait a minute," Michael spoke for the first time, "You said the vampire was caught six years ago. Didn't your coven try to infiltrate them?"

Selene didn't miss the tolerant glances shot Michael's direction. Only one so young would need such a thing to be said plainly. "Yes," Salene said in her familiar death dealer tone. When his expression didn't change, she elaborated, "Their dust was delivered to Amelia's coven."

Michael's eyes immediately turned black as he finally understood what she was proposing.

"I'll need a written explanation of the present situation as well as a formal treaty to deliver," Selene continued, ignoring Michael. "If all goes according to plan, the North American coven should be too occupied to respond to Marcus' summons."

"There are that many of them?" Talon sounded skeptical.

Selene nodded shortly. "At least five hundred. Maybe more." The pack leaders' eyes flashed, calculating. "That still leaves the Asian coven."

The dark lycan grunted. "Leave them to my pack."

She cast a glance at him but nodded. "If you can keep the main coven occupied, Marcus' forces should be spread thin enough to give you a fighting chance."

"You're not going," Michael growled, half-transformed.

Selene's eyes flashed blue. He had already displayed his ignorance once in front of the pack leaders. Argument now would just emphasize his naiveté and undermine his newfound standing within the lycan pack. "Even as renegades, a vampire's instinct is to kill lycans," she reasoned blandly. "Only a vampire has a chance of staying alive long enough to deliver the treaty."

She could see him struggling between accepting her reasoning and his instincts to protect her. Unfortunately, his instincts won out. "I'm going with you," he said determinedly.

"Marcus is here," she returned coldly. "This is where you're needed."

The pack leaders grew still, suddenly aware of the lovers' tension between the vampire and hybrid.

A low growl told her Michael wasn't interested in her logic. Selene blinked, changing her eyes to their original brown. "Talon," she addressed the nearest of the pack leaders, "are Michael or I needed for the rest of this meeting?"

Talon shook his head briefly, obviously re-evaluating her.

Scowling, Selene shot Michael a pointed look and stalked toward one of the many sewer pipes. He followed closely, his possessive air mounting in the enclosed space. Selene waited until she could no longer hear the murmurs of the pack leaders before rounding on him.

"Selene—"

"Sacrifices have to be made in war," she cut him off, frustrated with his antics. "I'm disposable. You're not. Accept that." Selene stared unyieldingly into Michael's suddenly human eyes. This was too abrupt for his mind to accept. He had been an immortal for only a week and was already being faced with the very real reality that he was the only viable weapon against the remaining hybrid Elder. Now, he was in a strange environment with her as his only lifeline to his human past. And that was about to be severed.

Selene's gaze softened, but her voice retained its steely edge, "You're needed here."

Michael shook his head. "No," he stubbornly rejected. He stepped closer, as if his proximity would make his argument right.

"If you don't stay, Marcus will rip through the lycans like air," she shot back. "Marcus isn't just a hybrid, Michael. He was the strongest vampire of us, save Victor." She paused, willing him to accept her words. "You need to stay and learn from the lycans." Michael stiffened, his jaw set in protest.

Taking advantage of their closeness, Selene leaned in until her lips brushed his ear. "Please, Michael," she said, a hint of a plea in her tone. She closed her eyes, willing him to agree. "I need to know that you'll be here when I get back."

His muscles tensed against her. Finally, he breathed, "You had better come back."


	3. Contact

3

Contact

O'Hare airport was as bustling as ever. Outside her cramped plastic container, Selene could hear hundreds of humans scurrying past, yanking their luggage off the conveyor belt.

Her trunk was jostled a few times as it collided with other containers and suitcases. After an hour of no one choosing the lone overweight trunk, she felt her container being yanked off the conveyor belt to make room for the next flight's luggage.

Selene retreated back into unconsciousness for a few hours. It was still daylight outside her blackened haven. Besides, it would take awhile for her trunk to be processed for delivery to the address duck taped to the top and sides. Although she had never traveled this particular route, Salene estimated a solid five hours before she was packed inside the delivery truck. Until then, she could wait.

* * *

Selene awoke to the mingled scents of plastic and gas emissions. She was inside the truck.

Bringing herself to full consciousness, Selene un-holstered her berretta and attached a silencer to the barrel. This done, she aimed in the approximate direction of the padlock and fired. A satisfying _clink _let her know that she had hit her target. Without hesitation, Selene pushed the lid open and drew in a deep breath.

Her departure from the trunk had displaced several boxes, but the driver hadn't seemed to notice. Carefully, Selene placed the now broken padlock in the trunk and restacked the boxes. Now for her next great feat.

Tentatively, Selene forced the lock on the back door. Peeking carefully outside, Selene took in her situation. She was in luck. On a practically empty highway, no one would notice a black clad figure suddenly jumping out of the back of a delivery truck. Thanking her good luck, Selene waited for the truck to slow near the desired exit ramp before jumping into the accommodating snow banks.

The cold acted as adrenaline to her sluggish system. Quickly rolling out of the deepest of the snow, Selene wrapped her scarf over her ears and struggled her way uphill to the Shell station.

When she stepped inside, the clerk glanced in her direction, quickly discerning that she wasn't a local before returning to whatever entertainment there was behind the counter. Selene bit her cheek to stop her teeth from chattering and made for the counter.

"Hello," she greeted, not bothering to hide her accent.

The middle-aged clerk didn't smile but looked at her attentively. "Fine storm we had last night," he said conversationally.

Selene nodded before providing the next phrase, "I'm told there's a diner that serves free coffee during storms."

The clerk nodded sagely and produced what looked like a lotto ticket. "Left, middle, left," he instructed, pointing to the three consecutive rows of scratch-offs.

"Thank you," she said before accepting the ticket. This done, she marched back into the cold and made a left at the next street.

Vaguely, Selene wondered at the irony of her present circumstances. As a death dealer, she had spent years trying to track down and exterminate the renegades. Now, they were the ones she was attempting to contact. Selene frowned. Even though their contact protocol had been compromised, new information was slow to move between vampires on separate continents. Thus, Selene was now staking her chances on the possibility that the renegades had set up outposts for European defectors who hadn't yet heard of the change in admittance protocol. Given her conversation with the gas station attendant, she may just be in luck.

"That or I'll be full of bullet holes by morning," she mused with a slight scowl.

Between the folds of her coat, Selene held a berretta ready. She wasn't interested in being ambushed unawares.

As she turned the final left, she slowed. The road dead-ended at a cozy home. Through the brightly lit windows, Selene could see a family celebrating what was apparently the littlest girl's birthday. She was about to dismiss the family when she suddenly caught sight of the little girl's eyes. Poking the cake happily, her eyes glowed a piercing blue.

Selene almost gawked. Never had she seen a vampire of such young age. Even attempting to turn a human before the age of sixteen was strictly forbidden in all of the covens. But this child was different, for the girl could hardly be called anything but a child. Behind her glowing blues, Selene could detect no humor or ire at the situation she was in. On the contrary, she seemed to be truly focused on smearing as much of the cake on her face as possible before her parents could wipe it off. Selene stared in dumb fascination for a solid minute before the simple truth hit her: the girl hadn't been turned. She had been _born_. Selene's mind reeled at the implications.

After the first two generations, vampires had lost their ability to reproduce through procreation. Although many scientists had attempted to rectify this apparent biological limitation on their species, vampires could not reproduce amongst themselves. This, perhaps more than anything else, was what had driven Victor to forbid unions between lycans and vampires.

Yet, in contradiction to tradition and science, the vampire girl was studiously smashing frosting into her curly blond hair.

Abruptly, the boy—who appeared about fourteen but could easily be older than Selene—looked directly at her. His expression immediately serious, he spoke something to his parents without breaking eye contact. A moment later, the parents disappeared from the window. The boy continued to stare.

The front door burst open and two angry parents emerged armed with a shotgun and two semi-automatics.

Selene took cover, a berretta in each hand. Shots whizzed past her head, erupting in light as they collided with cars and neighboring houses indiscriminately. Selene almost cursed. UV rounds. Just what she needed. To make matters worse, the shots had probably alerted the entire neighborhood to trouble. If she wasn't careful, she may be facing local justice. Selene paused in her musings, her mind racing as all the pieces fell into place. The family wasn't in hiding. They hadn't even bothered to draw the curtains. And the sound of the bullets hitting the houses hadn't been right.

To confirm her suspicions, Selene unloaded three rounds into the nearest cheap vinyl pane. Selene cursed. Reinforced steel plating. The only thing getting through that was a missile.

The final confirmation came in the form of a fully transformed vampire dropping on her from the nearest roof. Selene rolled in time to avoid getting her head crushed and unloaded the rest of her clip in her attacker's chest. The vampire yelped in surprise and fell to the sidewalk. Selene ran.

Reloading on the way, she switched to fully automatic.

Around her, the neighborhood came alive. Previously darkened driveways shown like Christmas trees, illuminating her escape for any pursuers. As if that wasn't difficult enough, new vampires were constantly joining the chase. She couldn't run much longer.

Suddenly leaping to the right, Selene landed squarely on the shoulders of one of the newest pursuers. Jerking his head back, she heard an immediate _snap_. The nearest vampire, a housewife, unloaded a shotgun five feet away, but she aimed high to avoid hitting the vampire Selene was still perched upon. Taking advantage, Selene rolled to the ground and kicked the housewife's feet out from under her. So, not all of them were trained. That boded well.

Turning on her heel, Selene headed straight back for the horde of vampires. Although her odds of survival in close-range combat weren't good, they were a hell of a lot better than as an open target for long-range gunfire. Selene emptied her remaining clips at point-blank range. Even though the silver bullets wouldn't kill them, a few attackers would be out of commission for at least ten minutes. Hopefully, that would buy enough time to escape this death trap.

Switching her grips to the guns' barrels, Selene launched at the closest group, swinging her guns like miniature clubs. Although not nearly as effective as bullets, the guns served well for knocking out a few teeth. Blood flew from broken jaws and noses. Just as she beat one group back, however, another replaced it. There were too many of them. Selene's mind raced, trying to piece together an escape route from glimpses caught between the ever increasing hordes. If she hadn't spent the entirety of her immortal life fighting, she might have simply dropped her guns and allowed herself to be shot. As it was, she wasn't willing to just lie down and die.

"Enough!" someone shouted above the noise.

Immediately, a deathly quiet settled over the crowd, leaving only Selene's panting and the sharp sound of approaching footsteps. Warily, Selene eyed the vampires as they slowly backed away, creating a ring of empty space around her. Abruptly, the crowd parted and closed up again, a lone figure marching through.

Selene looked levelly at the stranger. Tall and pale, she held the commanding presence of an unquestioned leader. Coal black eyes and midnight hair complemented her voluminous frame, hidden as it was by the bulky Green Bay Packers coat. "I should have known," she spoke in a thick Michigan accent. A smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth as Selene struggled to place her face. "It's been a long time, Selene."

FIN


	4. Endnote

Author's Update:

Hello everyone. For those who have added me to their Favorites, this is an announcement that I am closing off this fic. It will remain Completed.

However, I am also in the process of writing a sequel piece. I'm still working on the first chapter of this puppy and have no idea where it is going (big shock). What I can tell you is that this thing is already getting more complicated than I originally planned. As such, I probably will not post the sequel until I written it all, edited, re-edited, compared it to Aftermath, and am satisfied with the characters, storyline, and overall 'flow' of the writing. My apologies, but I can't promise a publishing date as of yet.

Thank you for your support and reviews, which convinced me to re-open this story! Peace out!


End file.
